


You Can't Get What You Want, But You Can Get Me

by Quankk



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Reunion Fic, just a splash of angst though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2043153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quankk/pseuds/Quankk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reunion fic, revised to take place after Lorne's visit to Wrench's hospital room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Get What You Want, But You Can Get Me

**Author's Note:**

> It was a bitch coming up with a title for this, but decided on that because at the time I was listening to "On Melancholy Hill" by Gorillaz and the lyrics seemed to fit.

When Wrench was sure Malvo was gone, he didn’t hesitate to unlock himself from the bed and soon he was collecting his things from the small storage closet the hospital provided. The way he looked and moved around the room, though, was very different. His shoulders slumped and there were dark circles under his glazed blue eyes. Since Molly, Wrench hadn't bothered to sign or write anything to anyone. He'd basically locked himself in his own mind, devising plan after plan to hunt down Lorne Malvo and make him pay for all the chaos he's caused. But he’d realized that it was all for naught when the psycho had visited him, that even if he could make Malvo pay it would be a hollow victory. He’d just wished he’d had more time...

Wrench shook his head, unwilling to let himself get overwhelmed right now. He still had a job to do. Had to return to Fargo, let the syndicate know what had happened.

The deaf man threw on his fringe jacket and left the cold, overly sterile room faster than was necessary, nearly throwing open the window in a hasty escape. It was clear outside, so unlike that day, that at first he thought he was seeing things when he rounded the corner to the parking lot and was greeted with a familiar car, and a heartachingly familiar man leaning against it, who saw him and grinned from ear to ear.

Wrench couldn't run fast enough. He felt the pain of his shot wounds being stressed, hot tears welling up in his eyes, but none of it mattered as he wrapped his arms around the man, clinging to him as if he loosened his grip for even a split second, the man would vanish.

Numbers took in a sharp breath, surprised at the force of Wrench's embrace, but without a second thought he was hugging him back, burying his face into the man's chest and feeling his rapid heartbeat.

They stood like that, in the hospital parking lot, for a long time. Wrench wasn't sure exactly how long, it could have been seconds, or minutes. But it didn't matter. Numbers was alive. He was there, in Wrench's arms, solid and warm and alive. 

Wrench pulled back to look at him. He looked relatively the same, if not tired. There were also bandages on his throat, the taller man noticed. He reached up to them, questioning. Numbers stopped his hand, gently gripping his wrist as if to say 'Later.'

Wrench nodded. 

They separated only to get into the car, out of the cold. Wrench insisted he drive them back to a motel, even though he was still a bit shaken, Numbers looked as though he would fall asleep behind the wheel. They knew each other well, they knew the others' limits and when they needed something, and right then Wrench was sure as hell in need of anything Numbers had to give, anything to tell him that the bearded man was still there next to him. So as soon as they were situated in the car, Numbers reached out his hand. Wrench took it without question, endlessly thankful for it.

Without another word, they sped out of the hospital parking lot and down the road.

\-----

Wrench ended up driving a fair ways out of Minnesota, knowing all too well that somebody would have already seen his empty room and they were out searching. It was late at night when Wrench pulled up at an apartment complex, Numbers asleep in the passenger’s seat. Wrench gave Numbers’ hand a squeeze and nudged their shoulders together, effectively waking the shorter hitman. Numbers let go of Wrench’s hand and rubbed at his eyes, yawning.

After a moment of getting his senses together, he looked around, then at Wrench. _“Where are we?”_ He signed.

_“I-O-W-A.”_

Numbers furrowed his eyebrows, so Wrench explained further. _“The police are probably looking for me, they know we’re from F-A-R-G-O and it’s not that long of a drive. This is a safe-house we can hide out in for a few days. Or, safe-apartment.”_ He smiled a little sheepishly.

Numbers nodded and smiled back, then opened the car door. _“Come on, lets get inside. You look like hell."_

Wrench glanced at himself in the rear-view mirror. He did; he still had dark rings around his eyes, which in turn looked bloodshot. He looked a lot older than he was. Then again, what could he expect from the emotional roller coaster of today.

When they got inside, Numbers headed where he would presume the kitchen to be, signing something about how starving he was and _"God damn I haven’t eaten all day, waiting outside for your sorry ass to come stumbling out of that hospital"_

Wrench snorted and took his jacket off, hanging it up before following his partner. In the kitchen he found Numbers leaning against the fridge, eyes closed and mouth stuffed with leftover pizza like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. The tall hitman snapped a few times to get his attention, and Numbers slowly opened his eyes, questioning.

_“How long were you waiting out there anyway? How did you even know I was there?”_

Numbers finished his pizza slice and replied _“Not long, actually. Followed that bastard M-A-L-V-O there after I heard about “some Deaf Fella”,”_ He even added the quotation marks, _“being hospitalized, meaning you.”_ He paused for a moment. _“And I was worried about you."_

Wrench nodded, taking it in. Then he noticed the bandages around Number’s neck again, and had to ask.

 _“What do you think?”_ Numbers quirked an eyebrow.

_“M-A-L-V-O?”_

_“And we have a winner!”_

_“Shut the fuck up.”_

Numbers laughed, and coughed a little. Wrench crossed his arms, then lowered them to his sides. After a moment, he raised them back up again to sign, _“Is it anything serious?”_

 _“Not anymore.”_ Came the reply, with Numbers shaking his head along. _“Well,”_ he added after a pause, making Wrench’s eyebrows shoot up in worry, _“Can’t speak quite right anymore, hurts to do it too.”_

Wrench relaxed a little, but not quite. _“Do you think you’ll heal? Fully?”_

Numbers shook his head again. _“Not holding out much hope. It might stop hurting after a while, though. And why are you worrying about me so much? You’re the one that got shot. Twice.”_

Wrench rolled his eyes. _“Neither of them were fatal, and I got hospital care. Besides, if he would have cut any deeper…”_ The taller hitman paused in his sentence, hands shaking in the slightest.

Numbers walked towards him, taking the man’s hands in his own smaller ones. “Hey, hey. Calm down, it’s alright.” He said softly, looking up at Wrench to make sure he saw what he was saying.

After a minute or two, Numbers let go of his partner’s hands with an assuring squeeze and signed _“Let’s go to bed. You’ll feel a lot better after some rest. Promise.”_

Wrench nodded and led them to the bedroom, where they stripped down to their boxers and climbed into bed. They lay on their sides, Wrench’s chest against Numbers’ back, and an arm wrapped protectively around Numbers’ waist. They kept a lamp on, as usual. Wrench didn't like being robbed of two senses instead of one when he had a choice.

Wrench nuzzled into Number’s hair, breathing him in. A familiar, comforting mixture of hair gel, cigarettes, and something purely Numbers. His eyes prickled with tears at the realization that he could lose this in a heartbeat, like he thought he had in those previous weeks. 

As Wrench pulled him closer, Numbers turned over to look at him and saw he was on the brink of tears.

The tall hitman took a deep breath and shakily said aloud, “I love you. I love you so much.”

The smaller man leaned up and kissed him softly, uttering quiet shushes in between each kiss and stroking his cheek. Numbers’ warm lips and the scratch of his beard against Wrench’s skin was comforting, and he calmed down after a while.

Numbers pulled away, looking him in the eye as he signed _“I love you too. I’m still here. You’ll wake up tomorrow and I will still be here, and I will still love you.”_

Wrench nodded as Numbers wrapped his arms around him, careful not to disturb his wounds, and buried his face in his chest. Wrench sighed, and soon after felt a tugging on his eyelids as sleep finally overtook him.

**Author's Note:**

> Might add on more, though it's HIGHLY unlikely. Reviews of all kind are welcome so that I can improve and am able to write them better. Hope you enjoyed. c:


End file.
